Springwild
by ElfineStarkadder
Summary: "Grief made the young Spring wild, and she threw down / Her kindling buds, as if she Autumn were…" –Adonais, Percy Shelley. The day in 1908 when Peaseblossom fell in love with a human.
1. Chapter 1

Advance Author's Note: Be prepared for my over exuberant use of of semicolons and large amounts of adjective-drenched passages, because that's just how Elfine rolls. This story does come from a fairy tale, but I shan't say which one until the ending. _Springwild_ will be updated every other morning.

_A wind lifts, sending Queen Anne's lace buds spinning in the cool air. The trees sigh; a blue butterfly glints dimly in the light from the sun; the smell of roses is in the sky._

I.

Spring 1908 came like an uninvited guest, spilling jewels and stardust into the calm of late winter.

The world was lit up with a green flame; wildflowers dotted the emerald with gold and red lacquer, rich orange and Prussian blue pencil – sapphire and cobalt, over and under and in great bunches heaped through the deep brush fields. Warm winds kissed tender and stole round merrily; the blackberry buds began swelling under the curls of thorny branches, and the blue-eyed grasses and black-eyed Susans competed in staring contests.

Next to autumn Peaseblossom liked spring best. It was nicest when the world was friendly and warm. The winters were hard; sometimes the soft green nuts and juicy berries were hard to find, and the splintered cold seeped into her house, an abandoned beehive up in an old spruce. The rest of the village may have been more snug underground and inside the thick tree trunks, running ready with sap to strain for hot mead - but none of them had such an exciting house.

Summer _was _nice – but here too there were hardships; the sun burned her tender pale skin, and sometimes, when she was not careful, it scorched her wingtips. Two seasons ago a knobby bear cub, delirious with summer, had not been sure her hive _was_ abandoned and nearly knocked it out of the spruce trying to find honey inside. Spring was better.

Peaseblossom was practicing making her needles from thorns instead of the usual pine. The spiders had been obliging in regards to the thread she needed. Usually they haggled no end (anyone who is versed on spiders knows that they are notorious hagglers) but the assortment of leggy mosquitoes and gnats she had trapped had been particularly juicy, and now several full tangles of gleaming silver thread sat on the papery shelf of her hive.

She was preparing the bridal gown for the Princess. It was to be of white leaf skeletons and dragonfly wings, accented with the four white down feathers of a thrush that Peaseblossom had found the summer before. Nothing like it had ever been seen in the Hollow. This was what Peaseblossom was counting on.

She was a smaller, long-fingered fairy, with one set of thin wings colored soft fawn and lavender like those of a Long-tailed Pea. Her small face was pale and serious, with bright pear-green eyes and a tiny clear mouth; hair like dark cornsilk ran in straight rivulets down her back, dragging when she walked. Being only a half-grown and already quiet as an adult (unlike most of the four-season-year-olds that only cared to frolic like idiots in the daisies) she was thought strange by most of the self-respecting Hollow fairies, even the old storyteller Bluewick who was rather strange himself.

But no one could deny the magic she worked with her fingers.

After a few seasons in business, Peaseblossom was making practically all the clothes for the village. Stream-rush trousers, dresses of purple asters, oak-leaf jackets and her trademark foxglove shoes were all needed new every year.

The days passed like pearls slipping down a string, and she lived in the light; content in who she was, and with the living she had forged, and with the world.


	2. Chapter 2

_A morning mist creeps over the green earth; the daisies are opening; plumy white lilies and irises are draped in dew-beaded spider's thread._

II.

The black buggy rumbled up the road, which was worn into two deep grooves with a high grassy ridge in the middle. Brown dust flew into a hazy cloud around the wheels.

The old house, two stories high and one cellar deep, sat like a maiden aunt comfortably on Stockholm's Hill in the afternoon sunshine. The wide yard was perfectly groomed, the picket fence freshly painted Sunday white, and the fields beyond a tidy checkerboard of yellow and green.

As the buggy approached, the house door opened and an older woman stepped out. She was tall and thin in a tidy black dress, with a set mouth and sharp eyes. Her grey hair was parted in the middle and smoothly pulled back to a tight bun.

The buggy stopped in front of the gate. A boy of a dozen-plus-two years scrambled out, tripping like a young stork over his long legs; a lady stepped after him, sighing in a way that eloquently spoke of her resolution to wash her hands of the stork as soon as possible.

"Good afternoon, Aunt Ursula," she called with fake jollity.

"I know you're not glad to see me, Cate; I'm not glad to see you, so let's not make a cake out of a peppercorn," said Aunt Ursula with a grim set of her jaw. "I will say good day to Samuel, however – " as the boy stumbled over a rock in the pathway and landed at her feet. His hair stuck out from his head like a dandelion gone to seed.

Cate hurried up behind and nudged his sprawled figure with the toe of her boot. "Say good afternoon to your aunt," she whispered fiercely.

"G' noon," mumbled Samuel from a grass clump.

"Get up and go inside," said Aunt Ursula, not unkindly. "I've made a Charlotte pie. You may have a piece."

With a muttered thank-you, Samuel bolted through the door.

Cate sighed. "I've tried, I'm sure – "

"And it is my turn now," said Aunt Ursula. "Are you coming to visit him again?"

"I'm going back to Mother's in New York – I'm sure I – " Cate began weakly, and Ursula interrupted her, holding her hand up. "Never mind. I'll get along. Come say goodbye to your cousin, Samuel," she called through the door.

Samuel appeared with a pie slice in one hand and a napkin in the other. "'Bye, Cate," he said, somewhat more cheerfully than was needed.

Cate embraced him awkwardly and breezed away with a reminder. "Don't explore too far or you'll reach the marshes, and Jenny Greenteeth will eat you."

Samuel knew he was too old for such nonsense, and so was a bit offended at Cate; but all the same he felt a thrill. How fascinating to be eaten by someone with green teeth.


	3. Chapter 3

_The poppies are beginning to turn their crimson mouths to the sky, yellow centers folding out like Japanese fans. The arching trees are creating caverns within the forest. They are deep and cool and rich with shadow. _

III.

Peaseblossom set the last silver stitch in the tiny waist of the Princess' dress. The dragonfly wings glinted like jewels; the narrow white grasses she had braided for the sash were crisp and straight. The gown was a vision.

Yet she was not satisfied.

For a long while she sat on her filbert stool, her chin resting on her narrow hands, staring at the dress. Every straight seam was invisible, every soft down feather curling where it ought. The leaf skeletons of yesteryear were white and perfect, the veins crusted together like rivulets running.

She suddenly clapped her hands in delight; she knew what was missing.

Dancing a spring star hop-skip to her workbench, she gathered a sharp stone, her sturdy stem slippers and a basket, and was out the door in the blink of an eye.

Her hive had been under constant scrutiny from the villagers ever since the Princess had commissioned the bridal gown, for they each joyed to wear the garments of Peaseblossom - they glinted and made a constellation of the wearer; and in the fairies' mind, nothing short of perfection itself would do for the Princess.

As Peaseblossom was seen flitting into the trees, Bluewick shook his black-bearded head, crackled his dry fairy fingers and muttered: "That damselfly is going to get sheself in trouble one of these days, Marget."

The Head of the Council stopped in her tracks to the blueberry patch and shaded her luminous yellow eyes, following the form of Peaseblossom. "Aye, she's young an green for all she talks so old, Wick. She will learn."


	4. Chapter 4

_A whippoorwill moans into the gathering dusk. Cool spring showers mist over the wood._

IV.

Samuel set out from the house, following the slender path.

Cate's warning echoed in his mind, and he shivered delightedly. It wasn't dark yet – not _much_, anyway – and it was to rain tomorrow, Aunt Ursula had said. He wanted to explore while he could.

The land sloped down behind the house, flora and adolescent birches in abundance, and all overgrown with azure moss. A kind of sea-purple the sky was, and here and there in shaded sly corners the dirge of the old year still bled wearily on. He stepped through the first patch of slender trees and was swallowed by forest.

Here not the friendly bright and green of the flat fields, but a misted blue and black; dense proud drapes of ivy stretched as taffy from one tree to the next. The odor of damp leaves and perfumed blooms hung heavy, spice and sweetness folded into each other's arms, the smell scattering like sparks and ashes from a hearth over the still air. The ground was soft. Warm in patches and cool in others, it made Samuel want to go barefooted; but he remembered all that had ever been hammered into his brain about poison plants, and kept his shoes on.

This was the forest primeval. Bearded with moss, and with garments green, indistinct in the twilight, the mighty trees stood one after the other, great ancient gods; sometimes a faint trickle told of a woodland stream. Samuel drank from three before realizing they too might be poisoned somehow, and trembled lest he suddenly begin to turn black and blue; however, as the minutes passed and he still felt healthy, he forgot the streams and continued on…

And then, inexplicably, he was lost.

The dust path was nowhere in sight, and every corner was the same to him.

Samuel turned and started backwards, suddenly certain that the path lay _this _way, but no – _that _way; he started running; his feet became entangled in ivy and he fell. The forest was no longer a magic place. It was dark and grim, reaching out with whiskered fingers to grasp his jacket and pull him to pieces; night was coming on fast and faster, black enshrouding his vision, creeping in close.

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_Elfine's Note: Points if you can spot the Longfellow!_

_And don't forget to review. Cheers! :D_


	5. Chapter 5

_The slow churn and broil of the darkening sky, twisting like a bent thorn-bush in the wind, holds in its hands a silver moon._

V.

Peaseblossom shifted her basket and looked inside, glowing with pride. She had spent the afternoon chipping crystals from the quartz rock in the valley. White and dewdrop-clear in patches, they glittered and gave off sparks, catching the fire from the sunlight. Welded together with spiderweb, they would make a glorious diadem for the lovely golden head of the Princess.

The quartz was quite a ways off from the village, and it was becoming dark as Peaseblossom began the return trip home. Shadows flitted over her path, but she was used to them – it was only the Night Shades having their evening lark.

The rushing of the streams echoed quietly through the trees. Sometimes the nixies and tiny stream selkies sang to the moon, and then – such music. And as Peaseblossom flew she turned her head this way and that, listening for the music to come straining through the air, stars in the sound.

She did hear a song. But it was not the selkies.

It was a strange voice – of a kind she had never heard; high and yet low, clear and wide betwixt itself, singing a slow, smooth refrain that had a reassuring sway in its rhythm.

Peaseblossom stopped and stepped on a spruce branch, listening.

The sound reverberated into her tiny body, echoes ringing softly around her ears, coming nearer. The song continued until it was directly underneath her branch, and then ceased.

There was silence.

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_Elfine's Note: It ends suddenly because it starts right up again from that point in part VI. In case you were wondering :)_


	6. Chapter 6

_Iridescent jade leaves wave, flags in the cool dusk wind. The powdery blooms are closing for the night, clasping their down petals over their hearts._

VI.

It was Samuel, of course; afraid that if he kept silent he would run presently mad from wandering in the never-ending trees, he had taken to singing hymns over and over until he forgot the words. It may well be surmised that he was by now feeling more than frightened; around him it was growing blacker by the second, and every which way there were only branches – leaves – ivy, curling over and under themselves, stifling him.

He paused under a tree and fell silent, trying to recall the third verse of _It Is Well_, for it was his favorite (though he had never admitted it to Cate, for fear she would call him a sissy). He stood a moment, thinking, and was fiddling about vaguely in the back of his mind for the words when a small, quiet voice above him chimed:

"Sing it again, please!"

He started violently, chills playing a tattoo over his spine, and jerked his head up. By now he could see nothing, such was the darkness; but a strange faint glow came from a branch over his head.

"What – what?" he whispered.

Peaseblossom did not know what creature she was addressing, but with the whispered reply she was suddenly aware that it was no ordinary woodland thing standing beneath her feet. It was an Unknown.

"I was wondering – if you would sing that again," she repeated, more politely.

"Who's there?" came the whisper back.

Peaseblossom stepped down from the branch and lit her lantern, shedding a warm, bright glow over the boy's face. He jumped back and held his hands over his eyes, blinded by the sudden light.

She observed his spindly form with fascination. She had heard stories about these Humans. They were noisome and made interesting things. She had sometimes wondered what it would be like to meet a Human. Maybe they talked – perhaps they had thoughts. Well, she knew now.

The Human Boy was staring at her, his jaw dropping. Peaseblossom looked in perplexment at his wide-open mouth. Did all humans go about with their mouths open? It was most peculiar. Things might fall into it.

"Are you a trick?" The Boy's voice was unbelieving. "Is this – are you for real?"

"For real?" Peaseblossom lit on his hand, and the Boy looked petrified, clearly wondering if she was going to bite his fingers. "There is queer you are. I'm for real, and wanting to know if _you _are."

Now he looked offended. "_I _am real. At least – I was an hour ago; now I'm just lost."

Peaseblossom studied his palm, bending down and tracing the many lines with her fingers. And finding that the Boy's hand offered warmth, she sat down and folded her arms around her knees. "Lost you are, Human Boy? That is certainly a phenomenon."

Samuel had a vague feeling she was making fun of him.

Peaseblossom looked at him, studying his face, his dark shy eyes and strawberry boy-mouth, and admiring him like a found novelty. "Where do you want to be?"

The Boy looked blank.

She repeated, with bashful patience: "Where do you want to be, instead of here? Lost, you said you were."

"I have to find my way back to Aunt Ursula's, the white house on the hill…" Samuel tried to make a gesture with his long arm towards where the house was, but remembered that he did not know in which direction it lay.

"The abode, pale and scranny on the Mountain? I know the place. Live there, you Boy?" Peaseblossom flew up and hesitated a moment before taking hold of his shirt sleeve, holding the human fabric tenderly as if it were a butterfly's arm, tugging him gently to the left. He followed her. It did not occur to him that she might be leading him to a stew-pot to make a supper of him, or something of the like; but this was not in her mind, so perhaps it is best he did not think of it.


	7. Chapter 7

_The nightbird trills three tapping notes: tewitt, tewitt, tewitt. The clouds are dark shapes outlined by the silvery-shining, lustrous pencil of the moon, and gleaming eyes peer from the woods._

VII.

Back, back among the trees she led him, through the sapphire clusters of folded blooms on the forest floor, through the cobalt dark and rustling verdant leaves. The night wind blew soft and cool on their faces. There was no conversation. Peaseblossom ran her fingers over the bark of the trees when she needed guidance.

When they came to the edge of the wood and Samuel saw the lights of the house glinting across the field, he turned to the Peaseblossom and nearly wrung her slender hand off trying to shake it with his thumb and forefinger.

"Thank you," he said, looking as though he wanted to say something more, but not knowing what; he clutched at her tiny fingers and added: "Where do you live?"

"In the hive, to the left of the third rose," replied Peaseblossom, feeling an odd shyness.

Samuel frowned and tried another path. "What is your name?"

"Peaseblossom," said she, with a faint tinge of rose on her cheeks, and in her voice.

"As in the Sweet Pea blossom?" Samuel looked dubious.

Peaseblossom shrugged, smiling at him and not knowing why. "I suppose that is it, Human Boy. Now listen: if you want to go looking in the woods again, don't by yourself; the forest may not be so kind next time you are lost. Call for me and I will be the guide, you see?"

"How do I call for you?" said Samuel obediently, because he wanted very much to go back into the forest. It held a strange beckoning for him.

"Just blow – so – through the teeth," said Peaseblossom, emitting a sharp whistle.

Samuel nodded. He would whistle, if Aunt Ursula didn't catch him at it. She disapproved of whistling.

"Thank you again, anyway," he said, beginning to step up the hill.

"Is some kind of ritual, you Boy, to do so much of this thanking," she called after him, laughing a bit and feeling lightheaded, hugging her arms around herself and blushing. Samuel hailed something back, but she didn't hear it.

At the top, he turned and waved, wondering what Cate would think of her cousin making friends with a fairy, and feeling rather smug.

Peaseblossom watched his light step with round eyes, remembering his crookedy smile and the dent in his left cheek. Half-consciously she put her hand to the side of her face. She watched the boy, wondering, until he had disappeared inside the house.

The moon shook his wise visage. In the heavens, each angel dropped his head silently to his golden breast; for Peaseblossom had fallen in love with a human.


	8. Chapter 8

_Four starlings scatter, sepia and burnt sienna feathers flying. Amid the long grass, clusters of jeweled spiderwort hang their purple heads, rich and simple ornaments over the bunched clover and sweep-shining flaxen buttercups. The dawn is coming._

VIII.

And so it was that summer came, sweeping brash and bold and golden-glittering into Samuel's world, folding into its arms, like fragile lace, the last sweet remains of spring.

In the mornings he would help Aunt Ursula with her cows, In't and O'er, and breakfast on sweet cream and biscuits with wild clover honey. Aunt Ursula taught him the proper way to make his bed and sweep the floor – folding the coverlet back, _not _brushing the dirt under the rug – and then, at noontime, he would take a picnic and set back out to the woods.

She was always waiting for him.

Sometimes he didn't even need to whistle. She would be standing under a leaf or sitting on a branch above his head, eating her own luncheon, a frost-covered blueberry.

They would set out together, in one direction or another: there was a day she showed him the village dancing grounds, a deep, quiet vale of long grass and white violets, surrounded by ancient elms; the next she would lead him through underground caves to a twisting waterfall, the spray shimmering and rainbowing through the air, glinting in the sunlight. Sometimes they would venture together into places neither had been before, exploring dark rivers and finding green glades fraught with swatches of wildflower and spiderweb. Often she would find things she needed - for a dress, or pair of tiny boots, or a coat she would be making.

There was the day that Samuel called for her, and she didn't answer; and after searching he managed to rescue her from a horde of hobgoblins, shuttered in a nasty hole in the ground. She kissed him for it, a tiny touch on his cheek, light as the wing of a butterfly.

Once they came upon a tiny stream bordered with long, thin black grasses; Peaseblossom told him they were called earth's eyelashes, and Samuel helped her to gather great bunches for Marget's shawl.

So time passed, and continued passing…


	9. Chapter 9

_Summer fades. Autumn arrives, with deep orange and cinnamon on her dress, leaves in her dark hair, and ice crystals on her teeth. Winter follows soon after, blowing clear frost and pearly snow. Six times the seasons change, six circles, six journeys through; and the years work their changes…_

IX.

Spring 1914 dances back over the world.

The thin, gossamer webs of spiders float through the air in the lazy sunshine. The green flame has turned to a sea of drowning flowers, raw and ignorant blossoms; roses are bursting from the vines, foxgloves, lupins, starbuds and bellflowers and irises dash across the fields, colors flying, in a blaze of glory. Translucent cream-colored clouds waft gently in the pale blue of the sky.

The house on the hill remains the same, fading white, stoic and peaceful as it ever has been. The forest is deep and growing, and the fields are still yellow and green; but any trace of the strange, awkward boy who once lived there remains only in Samuel's eyes.

It is an inevitable change the years have brought.

The figure who comes through the gate is taller; his shoulders are wide, his mouth set, though there is still a dent in his left cheek when he smiles. The dark freckles across his nose have multiplied, and his once shy voice now sings baritone in the church choir.

Perhaps his clean, pressed blue shirt is worn nearly to its threads. Perhaps his shoes have holes that he has not mentioned; but he walks with confidence just the same, and as Samuel came through the doorway of the old house, he kissed his aunt with all the assurance of an emperor.

Aunt Ursula was greyer and thinner, and quite a bit poorer; but she refused to grow older. "Did Harrison give you the seeds?"

"He did, Aunt."

"Sit down and have tea with us, then."

He sat. Charlotte pie was still his favorite.

Mrs. Mayburn blinked at Samuel for a moment and drank from her cup. "Did you see Anna Lovell hanging around Harrison's, Samuel?"

"She was there," said Samuel, feeling sorry for Anna Lovell.

Aunt Ursula clicked her tongue and shook her head. "The woman can't be serious about that thick-headed old man."

"Any port in a storm," said Mrs. Mayburn cryptically.

Samuel didn't hear them; he drank his tea quietly, stirring the dark brown liquid with a silver spoon, looking out the window at the forest and thinking of Peaseblossom.


	10. Chapter 10

_A sweeping rush of sweet summer wind runs between the trees, rustling the leaves and chiming the harebells, making a symphony of the forest. A dragonfly flits silently in the warm haze. The afternoon sky is soft rose and velvet gold._

X.

After the seasons that had passed, Peaseblossom had decided being a full-grown had its advantages. She was free to join the Council when it held meetings in the old gnarled oak, and the Princess always wore her gowns (today it was the one of crushed rose petals and twining vines over her pale shoulders). Peaseblossom was also allowed to wear ornaments in her hair (it was considered indecent on half-growns) and took no end of delight in weaving in string seed necklaces and baby's breath buds, dark leaves and glossy long feathers around the crown of her small head. Bluewick grumbled that it was excessive and unnecessary tomfoolery; but Marget told him to leave Peaseblossom be.

One unexpected drawback was that the new male full-growns had begun to take notice of her, and Peaseblossom was terrified of them; they gave her cheeky compliments and were continually throwing blossoms at her when she passed. It was the custom to throw things at someone you were fond of, and Peaseblossom understood, but she thought it very tiresome all the same.

She had told Samuel of this, as she did all her troubles; sitting on his knee in the cool evening, with his curly head bent, his dark eyebrows knit together pensively. He had told her he would carry her about and protect her himself, if she wanted him to; but since their association had been kept secret from the village and would have caused outrage if found out now, Peaseblossom laughed a tiny, tinkling laugh and told him it was all right.

But after that, Samuel sometimes seemed puzzled when he looked at her; as if a new idea had occurred to him and he didn't know what to make of it.

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_Elfine's Note: I have drawn Peaseblossom! I posted it to my story-illustrations-tumblr thing. The link is on my profile!_


	11. Chapter 11

_Pale green light sifts, glittering dust in its beams, through the leaves of the giant trees to touch the forest floor far below; deep blue flowers and long ferns curl over the old brown tree roots._

XI.

She had found crimson buds in a remote corner of the forest, and with delight strung them in a wreath and placed it on her dark hair. She had smiled at her reflection in the village lake for nigh on a half hour; fairies have their vanities, especially when going to meet a tall human with curls over his brow and quiet thoughts in his smile.

But when she saw him, he was dispirited; his face was rather downcast, so she brought him to a beautiful big glade in a part of the woods they had not been before, and sat next to the dark pool in the middle, and ordered him to tell her what was the matter.

Apparently he had to attend the town gathering at the Hall that evening. Aunt Ursula had asked him to accompany her, and he couldn't refuse.

"I hate these things," he said. "They're quite terrible, Blossom. You haven't any idea."

"Hate is strong for such a thing," replied Peaseblossom thoughtfully. "And you have not known, you boy, what sometimes the Council does for Midsummer Eve. They make everyone dance."

"Extreme dislike, then," said Samuel, who had learned to use softer words with Peaseblossom. "You don't like dancing?"

"Not when made to," said Peaseblossom obscurely.

"I wish I could take _you _with me," said Samuel. "Everyone there is always talking about everyone else, and who's going to get married first…"

"What is wrong with that?" Peaseblossom looked puzzled. "We do it all the time, here."

"It's tiresome for me," said Samuel, smiling a little.

"I have thought of this myself, Samuel," said Peaseblossom, curling her long fingers together and placing them on her lap. "And you know what, Human Boy? I think it is not the place that makes the feeling you have." She turned her green eyes on him and smiled back, a beautiful fairy smile. "It is usually the persons there."

"But it's so dreadful always," said Samuel, sighing. He stopped. "What's the matter?"

Peaseblossom had risen to her feet; she was standing, turning her head to one side. Her bright eyes had gone dim.

"What is it, my girl?" Samuel whispered, touching her hand with a finger.

Peaseblossom flew, whip-quick, to his shoulder. She was shaking and trembling like a leaf on an autumn evening. "Away from here, Samuel," she breathed into his ear. "Forgive me, I am foolish to have brought you to this place. Move, quickly!"

He did as he was told, darting through the darkening evening and the long grass; Peaseblossom clung tightly to his shoulder, the tiny waves of her long dark hair streaming and blowing over his neck, and as they left the glade he thought he heard something like the hiss of an adder, carried on the wind at the back of them; but it was gone in an instant, and they soon left it behind.


	12. Chapter 12

_Visions of far-off old grey mountains, raw and cold and filled with stone-hard memories, seep through the sifting mist surrounding the edge of the fields. The evening air is bursting with promises of late summer._

XII.

The light filling the Hall beamed through the tall windows (scrubbed clean by Aunt Ursula's cleaning troupe). A heavy rush of voices floated out the door into the early August dusk.

Samuel stepped inside and was accosted by crooning troops of his aunt's friends, demanding to know when he got so old and declaring that he was taller every time they saw him, and he blurted out appropriate responses rather bewilderedly; which made Ursula sigh in something like relief that he was not entirely grown up after all.

He moved through the room, wincing when he stepped on someone's toes and trying to avoid Ermengarde Hazelbeck, who always seemed to be asking the most uncomfortable questions just when his brain went blank, and Lydia Summerhill who did nothing but laugh and laugh at nothing and everything, usually.

He was halfway to the refreshment table when he saw the girl in the corner.

Her hair seemed to be fashioned of pure, bent gold, curling in spirals down her back. Her skin was satin and rose, her eyes wide and lustrous purple, and there was a beautiful smile on her face; a satisfied smile, he thought later, but at the moment he could do nothing but stare, which he did, until Mrs. Mayburn clapped his shoulder and said his aunt wanted him.

He went, reluctantly – looking back two or three times; and then he saw that she had moved from the corner and was following him – and in the ten seconds it took to cross back through the room, Samuel was head over heels in love with the stranger.

It couldn't have been helped. She was so oddly perfect it was nearly illogical, and he had had no human girl in his sights since he was eleven and Lucy May from the grocer had given him two copper pennies. The golden-haired girl was a stark contrast to Ermengarde's pouting china-blue eyes and Lydia's bouncing black curls. He was doomed from the start.

She sat down next to an empty chair near Samuel and his aunt. She seemed to be biding her time, waiting for something, and having no doubt of her success. Samuel stared and stared, and probably would have continued to do so throughout the night –

But the bang of the Hall door made him jump, along with the rest of the company; and a man ran in amongst the crowd, and tore his hat off, and folded it in his hands; and then took a deep breath and licked his lips nervously and said loudly and carefully:

"Friends, Britain has declared war on Germany."

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_Elfine's Note: Don't tell me you didn't see it coming. I mean, the year and all. I'm sorry this chapter is a bit late! _

_And no, you shan't know yet what it is Peaseblossom was so afraid of. Heheh._


	13. Chapter 13

_Faintly golden stardust has been powdered over the soft indigo velvet of the sky. They flash and twinkle now and then, countless eyes blinking at the world._

XIII.

Samuel stepped down the worn path behind the house, as he had a thousand times before. It was late, and dark, but his feet knew the way and carried him. The night air was still warm from the day's sunshine.

He felt the rush of her wings beating, a delicate pulsing whirr, before he saw the soft glow that she emanated through the thick gloom of the woods. She lit on one of his shirt buttons and whispered: "Samuel? Why have you come so late?"

"I didn't realize how late it was," he whispered back apologetically. "How did you know I was here?"

"I felt it," she replied, clambering up his hair and nestling sleepily amid the thick waves. "Wanted to talk, you did?"

"I suppose I do," he said, sitting in a fern patch and sighing. "I – I think I need your advice. You might know more about this than I do."

"Say all, Human Boy," murmured Peaseblossom from atop his head. She was drowsy, having spent the last part of the day collecting fragile seedlings, and her eyelids with their tiny short lashes were closing.

Samuel placed his hands in his lap and leaned back against a tree trunk. "You see tonight I met…talked to, a little, a lovely girl who was…just quite wonderful, frankly. She told me her name was Aster, and she was very nice and so beautiful, Peaseblossom, you can't imagine."

Peaseblossom was very still and eerily quiet.

He told her about Aster, about how her eyes were as deep purple as her name, and how her laugh was like blazing stars; and how her hair tumbled from her clear brow, and through all of this Peaseblossom remained silent.

It was because she was panicking –

Because terror was filling her small body and how she ached, and her own fairy blood was flashing cold; and how she longed to cling to his fingers and tell him how much he was hurting her - but that would break his heart; and she didn't want him to feel what she was feeling.

She loved him too well for that.

.

_Oh dear, Peaseblossom's been friend-zoned. Stay tuned…_


	14. Chapter 14

_The Night Shades are rushing over the woodland streams, their many wings filmy and pale and their eyes thin and mischievous. They know far too much; but their knowledge is kept hid behind their tall ears and long faces, and they pass unheeded._

XIV.

Samuel met Aster again at his gate. Somehow, he never remembered to ask where she lived or what her last name was. When she was near him her lilac scent circled him and her golden Grecian head moved so prettily when she tilted it to the side, everything he ever understood left him and all he knew was Aster.

When she had first spoken to him, her voice was even lovelier than he had imagined, throaty and clear, like a river. Today she had a silver sprig of heather pinned to her vermilion dress. She positively glowed and shimmered.

She smiled when she saw him. "How are you today?"

He never noticed, but she never used his name. It was almost as if she was afraid to.

"Aunt Ursula is worried that I'm going to get called up," said Samuel.

"Are you, do you think?" Her eyes were anxious.

He sighed and leaned on the gate. "I don't know. Probably. I don't think so. Do you want to come in?"

"I'm going to pick wildflowers before September changes them to different colors. I'll be by tomorrow, maybe. I'll see you," she called, waving a white hand as she passed back down the road.

She never seemed to want to meet Aunt Ursula, either.

Samuel waved back to her, and watched her continue on the dusty brown road as long as he dared; but it was nearly tea, and he took the small garden spade and went inside.

The late afternoon breeze rustled the golden-green leaves on the birches laced along the picket fence. Shadows began to fall.

She had stopped on the road.

Her lovely face turned to the wind, and her hair twinkling and glistening lustrous, and her eyes a deep, deep purple; she stood, watching the house silently.

A bird sang softly, somewhere in the trees.

She turned, and melted into the forest.


	15. Chapter 15

_Twirling and slipping gently like paper, the first leaf of autumn falls copper-gold and patched scarlet through the still air; it touches its shadow on the ground far below and begins to slowly brown and crackle._

XV.

Peaseblossom was crying.

If one had been to that haunted half-world the night before, just when the dew pearls were falling, one might have heard a soft, broken whisper like the sigh of the wind; it was Peaseblossom, lying on her daisy bed and holding her head in her hands and crying as if her heart would break.

Fairy tears are funny things.

She had not ceased since then, and her small face was crumpled like rose petals in winter; her eyes had lost their brightness. She had not eaten her breakfast.

She was picking tiger lilies anyway, because even though her limbs were cold and her heart was locked somewhere inside her, the Princess was happy and if the only thing the rest of her fairy life would be for was to make the Princess beautiful for her Prince, then Peaseblossom resolved, with a shuddering, quiet whimper, that she would do so.

The yellow-orange beauty of the petals was painful to look at. She took them apart, one by one, sewing them with spider's thread into the beginnings of a bodice. Her legs were crossed, with the pile of petals in her lap. Her tears fell, drop by drop, onto the needle; at times her eyes were blurred so, she could barely see to set the neat silver stitches.

A sound in the forest, thrumming from somewhere deep and forbidden through the quiet trees and into her being, made Peaseblossom look up and stiffen. Without a sound she dried her eyes with thistledown and took to the air, swooping low in and out of the tree branches, moving toward the feeling.

The trees were restless. They whispered and blew about, though there was no wind; the birds had become very still and perched motionless where they were.

Peaseblossom stopped, hovering in the air, staring at a figure walking through the ferns below. This could only be the girl Samuel had described. She moved with all the grace and fluidity of a sea-nymph under the water, her hair swaying like palm tree fronds in a breeze about her shoulders -

- but Peaseblossom narrowed her eyes, looked closer, and drew in her breath -

- because she saw, deep within the beautiful creature, under the glittering irises and black lashes, something festering and rotting and burning wicked, and Peaseblossom whispered to herself: "The old battle-ax. She can't fool me."

And even as Peaseblossom spoke, the glossy mass of golden curls began to shrink and fade to a deep green. The tall stature of the girl was lessening and her shoulders were bending, stooping, curling inward; the smooth skin of her face shriveled and ran through with dark veins and pond grime; and her eyes were black as midnight and murder, and flashed with a yellow-green glow like a cat. The scarlet dress darkened and shredded into rags, dripping suddenly with weeds; the white hands withered yellow and claw-like, nails like prongs; and last of all, the perfect white teeth crumbled on either side and lengthened in front, stretched and sharpened, run through with green scum.

Jenny Greenteeth grinned to herself - a horrid, clever, wicked grin, and she reached her black pool and slipped in, disappearing below the surface with a rush of bubbles that disappeared one by one.


	16. Chapter 16

_Twelve green sprites begin to sing their dusk song. The sound, that of forbidden castles on high mountain peaks and mighty fairy kings on blue thrones, rises and falls; fades to a low moan, and vanishes with the breaking of eventide._

XVI.

Samuel set his cup down on the saucer and leaned his head on his hand.

Small curls of soft sea-purple scent wafted heavily about his head still. He would have seen them, had he been looking. As it was, he was rather sleepy; Aunt Ursula's herbal tea had been unusually strong and he looked out the window, thinking, before falling back in the chair and closing his eyes for a moment.

Darkness was falling outside. The days were shorter now that autumn was close by, prowling around the sharp golden edges of summer and waiting for the season's door to open. Ursula was in the company parlor, reframing old family daguerreotypes, and in the small living room the lamp was not lit; the violet darkness began to permeate the room, seeping into the corners, relieving the youth on the chair of his consciousness at last.

He was falling.

The world was silent as he fell. Blue watercolors washed out far into the universe on either side of him; thousands of bright, shining things were dotted in jeweled clusters everywhere, and he realized that they were galaxies, and he was a star himself; all his neighboring stars were laughing about something, or afraid, or maybe it was both – and then all the stars came together and became two eyes in a face, blinking thoughtfully; but it was not the face he had somehow expected to see. The eyes were not dewy purple and shining black, and they did not belong to Aster; they were a beautiful pale green like gooseberries, in a tiny face framed by dark waves.

And suddenly Samuel knew; in a terrible flash that made him stumble up out of sleep and crash into the mantel, cracking the china vase and knocking two candlesticks to the floor where they shattered into four pieces in the silver moonlight - Peaseblossom was in danger.

.

_MERRY CHRISTMAS!_


	17. Chapter 17

_The sky is cold and black. Freezing stars shoot thin flames from their eyes. In the forest strange lights begin to glow._

XVII.

Peaseblossom didn't know how the old pond-hag had known she was there.

The fairy had stood on a thin branch for a good seven minutes, trying to wrap her small head around what this meant; she had a feeling lurking about her conscious of utter relief, but also, more prominently, breaking dread for what this would do to Samuel. She had seen, in his happy eyes, what Aster meant to him, even if she was only a myth, only a dream.

Sometimes dreams can be more important to one than real things. Fairies know this better than anyone.

The laugh of Jenny, cracking out from between her green rows of sharp teeth, jolted Peaseblossom from her reverie.

The ancient water-sprite was coming back up out of the water, dripping wet and reeking of rotting fish; it was blacker than ever in the forest, and her eyes shone bright. She seemed to be staring at Peaseblossom, but her sight was as weak as a mole's; it was her sense of smell that led her to seek out the tiny figure up in the tree.

"A fairy in my dominion," she whispered in her thin, grasping, grating voice. She sniffed the air again. "And one that's been here before, only a few days ago, yes?"

"I didn't think you resided here still," said Peaseblossom quietly. "I was foolish."

"All these years you've kept the tasty human – because I can smell him still, silly – you've kept him back from me, and I have to feed on fish and cold frogs, and it's made my magic terribly weak."

"What magic? Only have one curse left to use, you do."

"It's weakened it nonetheless." The dark figure in the water dabbled long nails over the surface, creating circles. "Anyway, you can't do anything about it now. I'm leading him here tomorrow."

"Not if I can help it," choked Peaseblossom fiercely.

"I don't think you can." Jenny's eyes glittered, and she stepped out of the water; her hands were grasping the tree trunk. "You've made a wretched mistake coming to this place. Fairy is almost as tasty as human, my dear."


	18. Chapter 18

_A whippoorwill sings, slow and mournful, joining in with three dragonbirds and a couple of mellow ground-gnomes who keep a night vigil. The forest at this hour is deep aubergine; its oldest inhabitants do not wholly know it._

XVIII.

Down, down the worn path he flew, faster than he had ever done before. An inexplicable sick feeling had gathered in his stomach, like the time he had been in charge of little Alice May at a picnic and she had vanished into the tall meadow grass; for fifteen minutes he had panicked, not so much because he was thinking of rattlesnakes or swamps but because not knowing where someone was was the worst thing in the world for him.

He had never worried about Peaseblossom before; she knew so much about the forest and carried herself with such surety always, that it seemed impossible for her to _not_ be all right; and he had forgotten the time he had rescued her from the hobgoblins.

Something was not right in the forest. The fireflies, usually so thick among the ferns, were quietly clinging to the tree trunks, glowing softly like dotted embers; the breeze was still, hanging in the air uncertainly.

A sudden, sharp whisper in the dark stopped him.

"Hello?" he said.

"Sssst, you."

The voice was female, small and a bit like Peaseblossom's, albeit older; and Samuel looked about but could see nothing.

"Sssst, you," said the voice again, and something holding a lantern lit on his shoulder.

"Who are you?"

"Marget is the name of me," said the fairy. "Who I am, something different entirely, Human Boy. Thick as the rest of them you are. I have no understanding of why that daft fairy has such affection for you."

Samuel didn't understand half of what she was talking about, but one thing broke clear to him. "Are you speaking of Peaseblossom? Please, where is she?"

Marget's wise eyes deepened in color, and she shook her grey coils of braided hair over her shoulders. "That concerns me as well, and is the reason I called you. The whippoorwill told me she is in a danger of some sort. I do not know what."

"Please, tell me where!" He nearly knocked her to pieces trying to touch her shoulder in a gesture of supplication, and she flew in front of him, holding her lantern above his face.

"Listen here, Boy; if the elders knew of her meetings with you she would be cast out of the village, so you must not try to find me again. I will only tell you this one thing: that that greenling holds you so high in her small heart she would do unutterably foolish deeds to keep your heart alive.

"There is a rumour that the old swamp fox has stirred in her pool. If this is true, it means something has been causing her to venture outside the forest; and I would advise you, Human Boy, to travel to the green glade as fast as your clumsy legs will go."

He went, not knowing how he understood where to place his feet, and which direction to take, but having a picture of a pool and something stirring, deep, deep in the blackness; and Peaseblossom telling him to run - of her thin wings whirring quiet, and her eyes worried and afraid; looking to him and somehow trusting him wholeheartedly.

It occurred to him that he might have been a colossal fool, handling ungently something very fragile.


	19. Chapter 19

_Slow, thick rain is falling over the farmer's fields, breathing life into the soil. The drops cling in clusters like sweet diamonds over the yellowing grass stems._

XIX.

Peaseblossom threw herself into the air, wings scrambling and tangled, and felt her ankles gripped by something twisting and thick; the hag's pond vines were travelling up the trunk and seizing her in their leaves. She struggled, turning her pale face to the moon and pulling, flying, stretching her arms to its silver glow as if trying to reach it; but the vines only tightened cruelly, and the fairy cried out in pain, high and mournful.

Jenny had stepped towards the edge of the glade into the shadow, and stood there for a moment in silence.

She held up her hand, and a vine curved about Peaseblossom's mouth, silencing her. When Jenny returned to the light, Aster had reappeared; but Peaseblossom could now see the rotting soul behind the glossy eyes, and the beautiful riddle did not have any effect.

What she heard next, however, did; for what came through the trees was as familiar as her own voice to Peaseblossom.

They were Samuel's footsteps, running towards the glade.


	20. Chapter 20

_Somewhere in the forest, a dead branch cracks on its way down. _

XX.

Peaseblossom took careful stock of her situation.

She was bound and gagged by dark gnarled vines; hands, feet, wings were crushed in a grip by the weakened but still functioning magic Jenny had so carefully preserved. It was, Peaseblossom guessed, all the pond-hag _could _do; transitioning into the Aster-form had probably drained her considerably of her powers.

Samuel was rapidly and ignorantly approaching her claws, and Peaseblossom hadn't any idea why he was here, or how; but she knew that Jenny Greenteeth received her magic from consuming human young, and after all the years Peaseblossom had strived to keep Samuel away from this part of the wood, her worst nightmare was coming to pass. The breath of her being would be murdered by the scourge of the forest.

Aster's soft footfalls could be heard on the moss covering the ground in patches. She was standing at the edge of the glade, calmly and gleefully waiting.

Peaseblossom began to struggle.

_Thump._

_Thump._

He appeared, suddenly, dark curls wild over his forehead, his worn trousers covered in mud; there was an expression of something Peaseblossom didn't quite understand on his face for a split-second, before it was replaced by astonishment and confusion at the sight of Aster.

"Samuel! What are you doing here?" The sweet (sickeningly sweet, Peaseblossom managed to think, even though she was almost dizzy with hysteria) voice lit in the gentle air.

"I have to – I've found – what are you doing here, and have you seen Peaseblossom?" Samuel touched Aster's arm for the briefest second before actually pushing her, ever so gently, aside and rushing to the edge of the black pool, in some kind of panic that Peaseblossom couldn't comprehend.

"Peaseblossom? What's that?" Jenny was enjoying herself in her angelic form, crossing the glade after the boy, sweeping her hand over his arm. "Are you sure you're all right, Samuel?"

It was at that moment that Peaseblossom's observant fairy eyes told her Aster's hair had begun to turn just the slightest bit green.

The magic was finally depleted.


	21. Chapter 21

_Rushing over the roots of the ancient forest guardians, a small perfumed zephyr kicks up its heels, blowing soft petals from the last summer blossoms in its wake._

XXI.

Samuel was shot through with a mixture of confusion and clear worry.

His eyes searched endlessly over the glade, from the pond to the trees; what on earth had happened to Peaseblossom, and was she hurt or captured, and he almost shouted in frustration; and suddenly there was a smell – lilac, circling, seeping in through his thoughts, drenching his mind; and slowly, then all at once, he began to go numb.

What had been in the pool? "Peaseblossom!" he shouted then, in desperation. He didn't know what Aster was doing out in the forest at this hour; what would her parents think – who _were _her parents? He couldn't remember –

Something was clouding in on his memory; he couldn't think. He turned to find her eyes there, looking in on his, only they were smaller than he had remembered, and he would have stepped back and realized _something,_ he just knew – only her hair, an odd color, was moving, wrapping around his arm and –

And he fought to keep hold of his senses but her eyes, her eyes were so black, they glittered and festered and shone; and he was slipping…

.

_Psst, I posted a Springwild-inspired watercolor to my illustrations tumblr. You can find the link on my profile!_


	22. Chapter 22

_Deep purple blooms violently over the night sky as a silver storm dances in, tapping on fleet toes through the mass of glittering stars spread out like sugar in the heavens._

XXII.

Split-seconds after Peaseblossom knew the magic was gone, she felt the vines relaxing their hold, loosening gradually, creeping by bits back around her waist and her throat; but it was not fast enough. She could see Samuel losing consciousness, falling into Jenny's withering arms under her sleeping brew, which permeated the air and stung Peaseblossom's nose even from her position.

Ever so slowly the vines slackened, ever so slowly they twisted loose; and in a frenzied, desperate motion, the fairy scraped free, bruising her arms and waist and blazing through the air in a fury towards Samuel, _her_ Samuel, whose lashes were closing even now for perhaps the last time.

For an instant, Jenny let go of the boy in surprise, and Peaseblossom clutched at his shirt and dragged him aside in a twinkling; shuddering with weariness and fright and panic, for in her natural state she never would have been able to do it. She stood on his chest, battered and hurting, with her hair flying around her in wild strands, but with eyes flashing and spirit burning, facing the pond-hag, who was watching with gleaming teeth almost in amusement.

"Give back the morsel, silly," Jenny said, smiling. "You can't protect him."

"And yet, even though we both know you could break me in half, you do not move," said Peaseblossom.

"Give me the boy."

"No."

"Move aside."

"No," said Peaseblossom, feeling oddly calm.

"I could smash you with a bolt of lightning," shouted Jenny.

"You may try," replied Peaseblossom. "But only one curse have you, and I am hardly, I think, worthy of it."

There was a single beat of silence, as fairy and pond-hag regarded each other; and then flames seemed to break loose.

"I curse you," she screeched.

Peaseblossom stepped back and her breath left her throat.

"I curse you to the ends of the universe, and to the far and dark heavens above, and to the depths of the earth. I take your flight, your form, your magic from you; do you feel that, Peaseblossom? What do you feel?"

Peaseblossom was gasping; her beautiful wings were shredding and crumbling to shimmering dust, falling to the ground in pieces and disappearing around her; something peculiar was happening to her arms and legs and torso, and it felt like a thousand stars were pulling her apart and carrying each corner of her to their side of the sky. The trees and long grass and late blooms seemed to be affected by the curse as well - they were rapidly dwindling smaller, falling and shrinking - she suddenly couldn't support herself and plummeted to the ground, hitting her abruptly heavy knees against each other. Dark purple and blue bruises started to form, and Peaseblossom began to cry; great big tears covered her face, filling her eyes and dropping to the pool, which had lessened infinitely in size. Pain thronged into her head, and the world turned black.


	23. Chapter 23

_Like soft footfalls, pattering gently one, two, five and seven, ten thousand, the rain begins to fall. Clear, cold, thronging to the earth, heralding an early arrival of a burnished-bronze autumn._

XXIII.

Dreaming again. Why was he always doing that lately? Strange dreams, too. Claw-like, gnarled hands, rummaging in his pockets. The fading remnants of a purple lilac aroma. Misting rain dripping on his face. Something glowing.

Her _eyes. _Snapping and cruel and dead, like a cat's and a fish's, prowler and prey, both at once. _Blood between us, love, my love _– where was that from, it was Rosetti, he had been reading it yesterday with Peaseblossom on his shoulder.

_Peaseblossom_ -

Samuel came to with a thundering headache. Something beside him was making angry sounds in the darkness. That was where the glow was coming from.

Slithering hands suddenly gripped his arms, and he wrenched them aside and leapt to his feet, hearing the voice utter a foul curse. Something whizzed over his shoulder; it was a long knife, glinting in the moonlight.

A stooped form flashed in and out of a shadow.

With that one glimpse, half-hidden memories that had been lost somewhere in his mind for so long suddenly flew to the forefront; and cousin Cate was pointing to a page in a book and saying "If you're not a good boy, Sam," and there was a watercolor of something crawling out of a black pool, someone with bedraggled, thin strands of hair, grasping long-nailed fingers, dripping rags and sharp green teeth.

He should have known, having met fairies, that other things he had thought were only folklore were real, too.

"That was you the whole time," he whispered.

The shining gold vision of Aster was shattering.

Something between a hiss and a cackle sounded from near on his left; Jenny Greenteeth was laughing, the laugh of an old warrior who has never yet lost a battle.

Aster was gone, sweeping away from the cracks of his mind, and he felt terribly, horribly cheated; for a large part of his heart had been given to a pure untruth, and his freely offered handful of stardust was spat upon.

But even in front of that feeling, rising and reaching and knocking about in anguish was another more important, which was now shouting in his head, and it burst from his lips:

"_What have you done with Peaseblossom_?"

Another knife flew past him, closer now.

He felt in the now thoroughly wet grass until he found the handle and held it before him. The rainclouds parted and gilded the deep blue-green glade in temporary moonlit brilliance. He was facing the trees, searching for movement, heart beating like a drum, when the pond-hag caught him by the throat.

It was really all she could do; her magic gone, her curse gone, all that remained was her brute strength, which was considerable; and which she applied to Samuel's neck, trying to squeeze the breath from him. He twisted, grappling with her claws; her teeth sank into his hand.

He let out a hoarse yell and threw her from his back.

There was festering madness on her wild face, her teeth gleamed. She smiled at Samuel before launching back towards him, claws outstretched and mouth wide open.

Automatically he threw his hands before his face to protect his head; the knife in his hand was pointed outward, and she saw it and screeched, trying to stop herself midair, before it connected with her chest and reached what was left of her rotted heart.

She fell, dead in an instant, her wicked eyes still glowing as they had in life.


	24. Chapter 24

_There is a still, clear silence in the forest, washed over and swept clean by rainfall. Lavender lights play upon the ground._

XXIV.

Sixty years earlier a young huntsman had stumbled upon the pool, and the mere sight of the pond-hag had been too much for his senses, pure terror rendering him dead; being more practiced in the world of fairy, Samuel had not been so unfortunate, but his breath came quickly and his hands shook as he threw the knife aside.

It was at that moment he saw, with recognition dawning like a thunderclap, a young girl lying still and silent next to the pool; masses of dark hair spread like cornsilk in waves about her, and wearing a pale dress of unusually large rose petals. Her eyes were closed.

What ran through Samuel as he realized who it was, and what she had done for him, was like the cold metal of the knife that had slain Jenny Greenteeth.

In a breathless moment he was at her side - his body trembled, and his heart was thundering, and his fingers as he grasped hers were shaking like the leaves of autumn borne on a cold wind, because he _had _been horribly foolish, almost fatally wrong, about everything; and when he listened and heard and knew _her heart was beating_, the beat of her pulse was a chorus, a symphony, like Handel's _Messiah_ playing all at once in each tiny pulse.

Her eyes opened, and she smiled; painfully.

"Samuel," was all she said.

"You're hurt," he answered, starting to cry, desperately clasping her still-delicate frame as if she would fly to pieces unless he held her together.

"Only bruises, silly Human Boy," she sighed, and shivered in the cold of the night; the rain had made constellations of glittering drops webbed over her hair.

She thought she was too heavy for him to carry, but he picked her up with astonishing ease, one strong arm supporting her back and the other under her knees. She circled his neck with her arms and leaned her head against his broad shoulder, finding this new arrangement much more convenient than sitting in his palm.

.

_Elfine's Note: Right, Captain. Just imagine Marius and Eponine in "A Little Fall of Rain" here, with the tears and desperation and all, except with Eponine _not_ dying. Rats, now I've made myself sad. Maybe not quite as dramatic. But along those lines._

_And by the way, I think this is my favorite chapter. _


	25. Chapter 25

_The sky has shifted from black to deep blue. The earliest morning stars have begun a dark waltz in their heavenly ballroom. _

XXV.

Rising around them were the ground elves and wood sprites, the dawn chasers and moonbeamers, web weavers and midnight-oil-burners, rustling quietly behind in the ferns and keeping pace silently alongside on tiny feet, gathering to watch the human carry the fairy through the forest.

Ah, but a fairy no longer; perhaps even Peaseblossom did not fully realize what had happened to her. As with most magic beings, good or evil, the pond-hag had believed that changing from extraordinary to the ordinary was the worst fate in the world, and for any other fairy it would very well have been. But not so for Peaseblossom, who was still puzzling over the peculiar and rather nice feeling of being a compatible size to Samuel.

Samuel was feeling peculiar as well. Aster was a dim shadow in the recesses of his mind; blind infatuation is like that - it sweeps in and flees when confronted with its riddlery. The events of the night had been overwhelming, but one thing was certain; he was holding sunshine and jewels in his arms, and never would he mistake the value of it again.


	26. Chapter 26

_Thunder cracks a whip, sending a shower of bloodied sparks tearing through the night. The trees moan and whisper, waving their arms in supplication._

XXVI.

Ursula was a hardy woman. She had been left in a city poorhouse at the age of three months and stayed there until age seven, fighting her way (with nods and polite smiles) throughout her life to a respected position in her country community; marrying a gentle and good man who loved her for thirty years before catching pneumonia; bearing a child who never saw a decade pass; dealing with hired men, harvesters, relatives, tax collectors and electricity on her own with a grim eye and a set jaw.

She had never been more astonished in her life than when she was roused in the midst of her sleep and found Samuel at the door, standing in the violent downpour and thunder, holding what looked like a rain-soaked female in his arms (and a barely dressed one at that), scads of dripping dark hair falling from about the creature's pale face.

Ursula asked no questions. She set to work and flew round at once, knowing much better than Samuel what had to be done; heating water, sending Samuel to the cellar for medicine and putting the girl in warm clothes (were those _rose petals_?); the poor soul, whoever she was, was half-dead with cold and exhaustion and hardly conscious of her surroundings.

Peaseblossom submitted meekly to spoonfuls of chamomile and syrup, her eyes, almost unnaturally large now on her human face, watching Samuel constantly and her fingers reaching for his as he hovered anxiously near, as if she were going to be swallowed up before him.

The only thing that seemed to really calm her was when Samuel picked her up, which he did; and situated so, she sighed, murmured a drowsy half-intelligible "Thank you" in Ursula's direction and fainted again, from pure fatigue.


	27. Chapter 27

_In the moist calm, the air heavy with after-rain perfume, the warm summer morning begins pealing light over the twisting trees, the purple and indigo pearl blooms, the moss-spattered rooftops._

XXVII.

Far into the woods, in the midst of thickly clustered firs, stood a lone apple tree. Built into the side was a delicate chamber carved by master carpenter ants; stained pale blue and edged with pure rare gold threads, cut with large windows and pale rose curtains.

Inside paced the Princess.

She was as regal as a fairy princess ought to be, with lovely pale yellow tresses slung in long ropes of braid, a long nose, a shapely cherry mouth, and Peaseblossom's coronet of crystals resting on her noble brow. She was pacing because the tiger lily dress had not arrived; Peaseblossom was supposed to have finished it last night, and it was to be worn at this afternoon's tea with the Council.

She could not help but think that something had happened to the quiet seamstress; Peaseblossom had never been late before.

A knock roused her from contemplation.

Marget stood at the door, twisting her grey hair into a scarlet ribbon atop her head. "I have come to confess," she stated firmly.

The Princess nearly laughed, but didn't. "Confess, wise one? It is not needed. Whatever you do, I know you do for good reasons."

"I must," repeated Marget stubbornly. "And I must tell the Council as well. Because I have seen something, lady, something which tells me one trouble is ended; but also another begun."

"I shall heed your wish. But there is something else I wish to know," continued the Princess, rummaging in her closet and removing a dress of cream-colored starflowers, jeweled with tiny pink pebbles. "Have you seen Peaseblossom?"

Marget did not shake her head, or incline it. She only sighed deeply, and left to summon the Council.


	28. Chapter 28

_The beginnings of blackberries are growing on the vines; hard, pale green, cold living gems stiff with sour juice and crowned with the shriveled petals of the dead blossoms._

XXVIII.

Tall and solemn, the Council filed slowly into the Hall.

Andrill, with a long grey beard curling to his knees and a gold woven waistcoat, two rubies from a ring found on the outskirts of the forest set in his cuffs. Sisely, short and thin as a twig, bright yellow wings fluttering. Riddler, young and beguilingly handsome, smart as a whip, green wings folded neatly behind his back; Marget, looking nervous about something; and at least twenty others, taking their tall seats around the long table and pouring hot and thick honey-and-clover into bellflower cups.

Round seed-cakes were passed; and the meeting began.

From her chair at the head of the table, the Princess rose to make the first announcements alongside the Prince. "The robins have told me to expect a more difficult winter than usual. I have begun preparations for this already, storing a double amount of reserve in the Underground Pantries, which are still one-third full from last winter. Riddler has put in a request to stand duty for the draught cellars, which I have already denied." (Smiles and laughter; good-natured chuckling from Riddler.) "Bluewick has generated complaints from the inhabitants of the Third Oak on account of his smoke-rings, which we shall discuss presently, as first Marget has also requested something; she has her own announcement."

All eyes turned to the Head of the Council as she stood from her place.

"This morning I was out for my morning breather," she said. "I didn't sleep last night, on account of something that was happening that I could be of no use in. You won't like to hear this, but I flew through the village."

(Shocked gasps; disapproving whispers.)

"The dawn was just breaking," said Marget, drawing a deep breath. And in even, measured tones, she told of whom she had seen walking down the road, hand in hand with a Human.


	29. Chapter 29

_Milky clouds, etched as if with chalk in the sky, float through dusty threads of sun._

XXIX.

Peaseblossom had never tasted hot chocolate.

She delightedly remarked upon its similarity to honey-and-clover - "Except _that_ is bright-tasting, and this is dark-tasting, Samuel" – and drank a full two cups, creating a tidy system of taking a mouthful of biscuit, and a swallow of chocolate, and repeating the process.

She was dressed in an old garment from Ursula's younger days, which was completely old-fashioned; but Peaseblossom couldn't tell the difference, and neither could Samuel - and so they continued in peaceful ignorance.

"This is where you spend your days?" she inquired of Samuel after exploring the house.

"It is," said Samuel, wrapping her in a blanket like jam in a tart. "Do you like it?"

"So comfortable it is, Human Boy. It reminds me of Aunt Witherel's house in the pine. Soft-smelling, and warm, and with a table and benches like so – "

Here she stopped abruptly, and was quiet for some minutes.

"Blossom?" said Samuel, very soft, because he could see where her thoughts had led.

After a moment, she whispered: "How tall am I, now?"

"More than five feet," said Samuel gently.

"And how tall was I before?" Even quieter.

"Very much smaller." Even gentler.

Silence.

"Samuel – " Peaseblossom reached her arms toward him, and he held her tightly. She was crying, softly, without tears. Fairies are fragile creatures, even when human.

She was saying something, and he had to strain to hear it - "Samuel, I love you, _but I never finished the tiger lily dress_."

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_Elfine's Note: This is just to inform y'all I'm skipping a day, so the next chapter will be February 6. Hasta la pasta!_


	30. Chapter 30

_Over the forested mountains, over the stubbled green fields and mossy dells swept clean with fresh biting autumn air, leaves are beginning to fall._

XXX.

"This is pure outrage."

"Would you have her killed by the old battle-axe, instead?"

"I think it's just terribly romantic." The last from Phoebe, a tall, drooping young willow of a fairy.

"It doesn't put us in any danger, does it? No, it doesn't," said Marget. She frowned at the company, who fell silent. "I have met this youngling, and he is good, and kind. Peaseblossom herself is too intelligent to let any harm come to pass this way."

"I don't hold with associating with – Them," replied Sisely, folding her fingers, keeping them tightly laced.

To the surprise of the Council, the Princess stood; cool and reasonable, nodding diplomatically to all and holding up her lovely hand. "Peaseblossom is one of the best and brightest I know," she said. "And, though some may not realize, it could even be advantageous to have one of our own on the side of the Humans, in case trouble should ever come to pass."

Andrill raised a jeweled forefinger. "I agree with the Lady."

"I still think she has brought upon us shame, meeting with a Human Boy," said Sisely, scowling. "Let's put it to a vote."

"What for?" scoffed Marget. "What would we do? Drag the girl back here? Tell her to stay in the woods the rest of her days when she can't even fly to save her life? There is nothing we can do, Sisely, and if you say one more thing about her shaming us, I'll inform Petre that you were out walking with Bluewick yesterday."

"I did no such thing!" gasped Sisely.

"I know," said Marget, placidly. "But I'll inform him of it just the same."

.

_Elfine's Note: Fairy squabbles are fun to write, especially when pilfered a bit from _Oklahoma!

_Elfine's Note No. 2: I am trying to post 31, but ff isn't letting me! I'll see if I can do this somehow._


	31. Chapter 31

_Great heaping bunches of the last summer-wild roses pull at the slender thorned vines, their pale gold and warm pink faces beaming jovially at the world. Children still pad barefoot over the dusty brown road, savoring the last balmy days before school begins._

XXXI.

So far Peaseblossom's presence at the farm had gone largely unnoticed by the surrounding population. She had settled into her new form surprisingly well, given the circumstances, and picked up Ursula's habits within a week, finding it great fun to trim the hedgerows and wash the dishes. She even proved to be cleverer in many instances – demonstrating new ways to mend the curtain and to rework Samuel's shirt so it looked brand-new, for her dressmaking skills remained in her fingers.

She sometimes forgot and tried to take to the air, leaping and willing the wings to fly that were no longer there; but even these occurrences were growing less and less.

About this time Mrs. Mayburn called at the house, and was astonished to have the door answered by a young girl in eccentric dress (for Peaseblossom still wore flower wreaths in her hair and preferred to sew her own garments) whom Mrs. Mayburn had never seen before. Peaseblossom was unfailingly polite and once Ursula had appeared, left to help Samuel with the weeding in the back garden.

Ursula had been told Peaseblossom's unusual backstory, and had no intention of sharing it with Mrs. Mayburn; but that good lady demanded an explanation, and Ursula found herself rattling off glibly: "It's Samuel's fiancée, over from Trinton. Orphan, you know, but her relatives are quite clannish."

"But how marvelous," said the good-natured neighbor, and allowed herself to be persuaded to keep it a secret; and Peaseblossom went unwittingly on her way, carrying the spade and gloves to the tomato patch.

As they worked in the soft brown earth, Samuel explained to her about the war, and how he might have a part in it; and to his surprise, she approved. "Is like Jenny Greenteeth, Samuel," she said. "You must fight it or live in terror of its shadow."

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_Elfine's Note: Many thanks to I-am-a-Firefly for presenting the idea of Peaseblossom becoming a seamstress again!_

_Elfine's Note No. 2: When I first posted this, the link didn't work, so here it is again!_


	32. Chapter 32

_The days are clear and bright. Houses are glazed with molten gold in the morning from the jeweled sun and raw silver at night from the glistening stars. _

XXXII.

Bronze and copper leaves, leaving the trees half-clad and bare-boned, swept clear the way for a dazzling September.

The children wore their shoes again and the women put on shawls. The fairies had autumn revels on their dancing lawns, flying and whirling in circles and rows, laughing and eating and drinking feasts of the fairy sort – sweet pear cordial, candied walnut and raspberry salads, roasted mushrooms, acorn soups, hot dandelion turnovers and beechnut puffs; and the humans had harvesting parties and ale tastings of their own, with sweet yams and roast potatoes, chicken dumplings, spiced apple pies and blackberry tarts, as well as sumptuous delicacies created in fairy fashion by Peaseblossom's clever hands.

It was at this time, in the middle of a wind-blown fall day, that Samuel received a visit from the Princess.

She came alone, stepping with silent footfalls over the grey wood roof of the barn where Samuel was mending a broken window. She watched him at work for some time, unobserved, silent and noting with steady eyes his concentrated features, patient hands, and cheerful whistle, trilling _The Merry Farmer Boy_.

When she alighted on the windowsill and sat on his tool kit, he did not seem surprised, and lifted his cap respectfully.

She watched him a moment more, and then said only, "You possess more of Peaseblossom's heart than you can hope to understand."

"I know," said Samuel gravely, and he did.


	33. Chapter 33

_Hush! The night is frozen and silent. From the deep night sky come twirling snowflakes, dancing through the air, glinting, twinkling, flashing, gleaming._

XXXIII.

And the spice of fall turned to the chill of winter, and one morning, while they were sitting next to the stove and drinking coffee, Samuel asked Peaseblossom to marry him.

It wasn't at all like he'd planned it. He had wanted to ask her under an apple tree, surrounded by gently falling petals; or in a windy field, in the midst of the long grass, with the sun shining down; or even just on the front step, where he would kneel and kiss her hand.

But there they sat, like so many other mornings, cupping their mugs and talking over small matters, as they liked to do - and these romantic ideas he had cherished so fondly seemed unimportant because Samuel knew he wanted to have her here like this every morning for the rest of his life and after; and he blurted out in a most unconventional manner – "Blossom, _marry me!_"

Peaseblossom started and colored; laughed, exclaimed something unintelligible, and then shut up like a clam, blinking at him solemn as an owl; and he saw there was nothing for it but to kiss her, and so he did.


	34. Chapter 34

_The fields and dells are glazed with white like icing sugar. __The downy snow is sitting in drifts between the black-pencilled forms of the bare trees._

XXXIV.

Branches bent under their heavy load, sometimes cracking and sending a whiplash shiver of sparkling snow dust through the stiff air. Throughout the calm house on the hill seeped the aroma of spiced cider and oranges. The whole of winter passed languidly and delightfully, with tea and pleasant company. Samuel showed Peaseblossom his favorite books, which she was not acquainted with, and reading to each other became one of their favorite pastimes.

When the ground was bare again, and thousands of tiny buds began blossoming, and the sky was pale blue as a robin's egg, preparations began to be made for the wedding of Peaseblossom and Samuel.

And one morning, shortly before the day, Peaseblossom awoke to find laid out on her bedcovers something soft and white and rustling, and rather familiar; and then she saw the white leaf skeletons, the dragonfly wings, and the four white down feathers of a thrush among the gleaming pale folds. It must have taken a good deal of everyone's magic to lengthen and widen the delicate wedding dress that Peaseblossom had made so carefully, and so long ago, for the Princess - and Peaseblossom realized that nearly everyone in the village must have given some of their own fairy enchantment to make it perfect, to give to her a piece of what she had given them.

She lifted it from the bed and held it before her in awe. It was like tasting a last, sweet breath of home before beginning anew. She stepped to the window and lifted her radiant face to the sky, and whispered, "Thank you."


	35. Chapter 35

_The sun, a bright jewel in the pale bowl of the sky, is glinting and beaming its hot gaze; the clouds float like dancing maidens winged with white feathers, veiled with diaphanous silk._

XXXV.

It was a soft and sea-purple day when Peaseblossom was married.

The garden bower was strung and draped with garlands of spring wildflowers, cascades of them falling from the archway and dripping from the benches – amethyst spattered with bright gold, white spangled with pale pink, dandelions, forget-me-nots, wild roses and clusters of violets.

The bride was positively shining, with a blazing incandescence; the delicate gossamer gown floated about her slender form, and creamy white apple blossoms had been twined and threaded over and through her dark hair, circling her head like a halo. The groom was nervous and rapturous all at once, blushing like a schoolboy beneath the dark freckles on his handsome nose and sometimes staring at Peaseblossom in a daze, as if he rather thought it couldn't really be happening and someone was playing a trick.

Not many had been invited. The gathering was small.

But if one had looked very closely, one might have glimpsed, in the very highest branches of the surrounding trees, hundreds of tiny winged creatures; seated and standing, waving translucent wings etched with blue veins, and watching in profound and wondering silence.

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_Elfine's Note: One more chapter!_


	36. Chapter 36

_Heavy folds of dew fall like lush velvet, sending the deep scent of moist earth spinning. The stars are fading. The sun is beginning to rise._

XXXVI.

And the lights were dancing in the sky. Spring had exploded into countless myriads and variations of kaleidoscopic patterns made in green and gold and blue. The apple trees had shed their buds like feathers, casting them all about in flurries of delicate pink and honey. The sweet spring onions were taken in.

Away to war went Samuel, and back again came he, with crinkles round his mouth when he grinned and a wiser head on his shoulders for what he had seen. There were children in the house: barefooted, freckled children, with bright pear-green eyes and clever hands. Peaseblossom visited often with her kin from the forest, and Marget especially was fond of coming and amusing the children with fairy tricks.

So time passed.

And continued passing…

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_Elfine's Note: Whoops, I lied. One more!_


	37. Chapter 37

_The trees in the forest are tall and ancient, their leaves making pools of mottled green light dance on the forest floor. Young saplings have grown in the past century to grand duchesses sweeping their stately boughs through the still air._

XXXVII.

Spring comes to this 21st century year as it has before, like an uninvited guest; spilling jewels and stardust into the calm of late winter.

The world is lit up with a green flame. Wildflowers dot the emerald with gold and red lacquer, rich orange and Prussian blue pencil.

And a young girl, with dark curls over her freckled face and ink stains on her blue jeans, skips out the back door of the old, old white house on the hill; and with an odd twinkle in her bright green eyes and an apple in each hand, decides to go explore the woods…

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_Elfine's Note: I sure like to bring my stories around in circles, don't I? And if you were wondering, it's based slightly on The Little Mermaid ;)_

_IT IS OVER. I almost can't believe it! I've loved every bit of writing this story, and thank you so much to everyone who enjoyed reading it! (And putting up with my stallings and shortcomings and such.) You are all wonderful and lovely and I hope you have a beautiful day. _

_I'll resume _Desperado _shortly_._ I hope you'll join me for that story as well!_

_Love and blessings,_

_Elfine_


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